


don't leave the ball in my court (for i weep behind my hands)

by fortomorrows



Category: HIStory2 - 越界 | HIStory2: Crossing the Line (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Character Study, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, M/M, Permanent Injury, Qiu Zixuan needs hugs okay, Zixuan-centric, how i thought the series should have ended, the finals match i played out in my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortomorrows/pseuds/fortomorrows
Summary: Xia Yuhao crosses the line - and Qiu Zixuan steps back. In a world where everything has a price, Zixuan cannot comprehend love.orA character study in Qiu Zixuan, on hesitation and regret.
Relationships: Qiu Zixuan/Xia Yuhao
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	don't leave the ball in my court (for i weep behind my hands)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I finished HIStory2::::: Crossing the Line last night and I was completely blown away by everything. I loved loved loved the characters and lamented all that wasted potential in content. This could easily have been stretched to several more episodes beautifully.  
> This is slightly canon divergent, where the last confession scene does not happen and the finals game that played out in my mind and not in the show is written. This is from Zixuan's point of view and why I thought he held back so much, despite being stupidly in love.  
> Its because his reasons are not stupid, and I found a lot of potential in Yuhao slowly gaining Zixuan's trust as well, proving to him that despite all the chances he missed, there is still a lot left living for.  
> Here's to these two beautiful boys, and a very very very well done series.  
> Thank you!

_"I know I crossed the line, but this isn't a competition", Yuhao pauses, eyes full of hope, heart beating out his chest, smile threatening to tear off his lips,_

_"Senior, I like you."_

Zixuan is still hesitant. He still wakes up at five some days, the phantom throb on his knee back, staring at the sunrise like he is about to run all the twenty laps he no longer can. Sometimes, he still reads off the calorie count on the milk counter that Qianru brings and calculates millilitres involuntarily at the back of his mind. And when sunsets are too empty, and his heart too full watching the boys leaping about the court in perfect rhythm, he still checks that smile at the corner of his mouth.

He fights it. And sometimes, he thinks he always will.

He still waits before everyone leaves the court to tidy up by himself, savoring the taste of adrenaline on his tongue for a few seconds more, sometimes jumping just to realize the hurt that has now taken up permanent residence in his body.

And then Yuhao leans across the net and blows his mind.

Like it really is all that simple, happiness tumbling up and down his chest like accelerated heartbeat, and his eyes so full of love that it makes his ears burn and he is left wondering if that much affection for one person should be deemed illegal. Like its just really so simple, one glance shared across a crowded practice court and hope spreading its tiny wings and leaving a fluttering sensation in his stomach. 

And Zixuan likes it, Yuhao's giddy smile and naive eyes, looking at him like he hung every star and moon in the universe. He has a theory, that if he ever tells Yuhao that his flying serve is actually learnt from several replays of old matches and its really an iconic move everybody knows Yuhao will still look at him like he's the one who does it the best (he's not, he's far from it and he knows it). Sometimes Zixuan regrets having sharp eyes that dart about everywhere at once and capture everything happening in a moment, and if Yuhao thinks he is being slick about the honey dripping admiring gazes he always sends in his direction, well, the boy is doing a terrible job at it.

So he likes it, but in his life, he has learnt the hard way about the price of things, the struggle behind each hard earned achievement. He tells no one about how his heart still breaks a little every time he watches a match, and how it took several months to just stand on his own two feet again, literally. Zixuan, has been through hell and back, and sometimes, he wonders if he left something behind for good.

So he can't trust it, this gradually strengthening surge of emotion he feels whenever Yuhao smiles at him across the net from the court like he hadn't hurled the boy's soft words and brittle feelings right at his feet. He can't trust this easy forgiveness and the readiness with which Yuhao is still ready to run to attend to him at a hat's drop. 

The knowledge of his rejection burns at the back of his mind, like the spikes of guilt that go over him whenever he notices the sadness drooping at the edges of Yuhao's eyes after a particularly intense practice where he had very carefully restrained himself from not talking to him at all. In many ways he knows he's at a crossroads, but somehow, after all this time, he can't believe anymore, a universe that deemed him unworthy of doing what he had loved, with his life, all his life, for the rest of his life did not seem trustworthy anymore. 

And Yuhao was too young he knew, and he himself unworthy of being looked upon with such admiration, such devotion, Yuhao gave his heart out like he was running out of air, life even, but to spend it on him, who can no longer believe in that smile of Yuhao's, however mesmerizing it is, is not worth it. 

So he waves from across the court and slowly starts to draw away.

Chengen notices, damn that bastard for knowing him so well.

"Breaking his heart won't mend your broken bones you know", Chengen says, one day, in the club room, Xiaoxiao sketching away noisily in the background. Just what she is sketching about, Zixuan really doesn't want to know. Or maybe he does now, because of this horrible situation (although he doubts very much if Xiaoxiao deals with actual emotional turmoil in those very graphic novels of hers).

"It hurts", he says quietly, hoping his friend would understand. Afternoon sunlight streams into the messy place he had come to call a home of his in his four years of high school, and he aches about the knowledge that its the last year, the last chance. One that he didn't even get. Anger pools in like a fight without claws in him and he shakes away Chengen's resting hand on his shoulder.

"Give him one chance", Xiaoxiao says from the background, loudly. Both of them turn to look, expecting her to be self re-enacting one of her little scenes all by herself, instead she is looking right at Zixuan.

Her eyes are strangely glittery, 

"More than that", she stands, smoothing out her skirt and Zixuan wonders how he never noticed how tall she had grown over to last four years, almost up to his eyes now, "More than that Zixuan, give yourself a chance".

Chengen gives him a final pat on the back, "You don't have to redraw the lines that once held you back Xuan, you can always make new rules".

Zixuan doesn't sleep that night, Yuhao's laugh replaying in his ears like an annoying ringtone - in the morning his cheeks hurt from smiling for way too long.

They train, bloody and almost bruised, sweat slipping under skin, irritating. Classes are nearly over before term ends and the finals happen. Zixuan finds himself at the sidelines of the the quarters and semi finals chanting his strategies like a prayer under his breath. From his right Zhenzhen glares at him occasionally, no doubt angry on his friend's behalf. Yuhao no longer pushes to get closer, instead running about at double speed, doing more of the given exercises, almost taunting, challenging him across the court, that even as he had given up on the special training and on Yuhao, the boy was still going - that he hadn't let go, and his neck feels hot, ears bur at that intense gaze. Sometimes Zixuan wonders how he keeps himself standing during training with Yuhao almost constantly looking at him with such intensity, such _love._

When Yuhao's warm hands find his calves one day when no one is left in the gym and the lights are almost dead and he is wincing because of leg cramps, he discovers that he isn't feeling threatened, or frightened. Not even guilty as he looks at the boy, head bowed, slowly massaging his leg like his life depended on it. There is so much pain in his eyes - on whose behalf he doesn't know - is it Yuhao's bleeding heart, or something else? Instead of all the negative feelings he had been anticipating all he feels is an over whelming fondness at this little hurricane that had crashed into his life and now wouldn't let go. 

The first few weeks with Yuhao were tumultuous, frustrating. But now he feels calm, like he had reached the eye of the storm, Yuhao's storm more specifically, and although he barely restrains his fingers from reaching out to brush Yuhao's tousled hair on his bowed head, ends glinting in the twilight, he allows a small sound of contentment to leave his throat - approval at the massage and even at the tiniest of reaction Yuhao's head shoots up, full mouthed smile, and such joy - he looks pleased with himself, like he has just won the lottery or something, But what really makes his breath catch in his throat is the relief. Yuhao looks like he has had his life returned back to him in a ribbon-ed up cardboard package and he is told why explicitly - 

"I thought you would hate me forever", Yuhao mutters under his breath, head bowed down again, trying to hide that radiant smile that had consumed him. Zixuan nearly loses his mind, unable to understand even hours later just how he had been able to keep a stoic face, how could you, in front of such brightness, liveliness - a flower that has tasted direct sunlight will never quite know anything like it again and under the rays of its master, it will always dance.

"Senior", Yuhao's voice had begun to slur adorably, in exhaustion no doubt, "can you do me a favor?"

Zixuan hums, too overcome with emotion to actually open his mouth. People said he looked cold on the outside, non reacting - truth is he felt too much, most of the times, unable to express it. Chengen knew it, Xiaoxiao too, for a long time. But it seemed like Yuhao had also understood it. It was in the very way his eyes began to shine with that special warmth whenever he looked at Zixuan. He was doing the same again, staring up in a gaze so drenched in love that Zixuan almost drowns in it, feeling his hands and legs go numb as his brain stops being able to comprehend the magnanimity of this affection coming from the boy in front of him

"If we do well in the finals", and Zixuan's heart clenches at the way Yuhao's voice trembles, uncertain of himself. If someone had told him Yuhao could get this vulnerable, or unsure of himself he would have scoffed then. But now it was a different story - he wants to gather up Yuhao's hands in his own and look him in the eyes and tell him - that there was no need to fear, that Yuhao was good, great, brilliant even, in the way he had improved so much in such a short amount of time. When they first met, Zixuan had wondered whether he was all brute strength and no effort. 

Yuhao had proved him wrong, at every turn. When he thought Yuhao would leave after the first week he stuck around. When he thought Yuhao would leave him alone collecting the balls one evening, he had returned and held him as he cried. He thought Yuhao was as fickle as the fleeting happiness he had felt in this life in the form of his brief years as the leading spiker, but he did the exact opposite - Yuhao changed, changed himself. When his grades threatened their club, he resolved to study, when his performance brought the team down, he practiced extra hard, and when he thought Yuhao would grow sick of him, him and his obsessive need for planing and strategizing and analyzing because it was only way he could still play, Yuhao leaned across the net, one leg over the line, heart cut open on his sleeve and kissed him. He had thought Yuhao would eventually leave him behind, and the disdain in his eyes would never change ( _oh, how beautiful_ his brain had supplied on the day he had seen him across the track fields), instead, Yuhao turned around and fell for him, ready to follow him to ends of the earth. 

In his brittle voice he said, "Senior, if we do well in the finals,", then gulping, "please think about what I said again".

Zixuan does not remember nodding, Yuhao's billion dollar smile at his reaction burned onto his eyelids like naked lights on pupils. 

They make it to the last day like Yuhao once promised - _if i keep training_ , he'd said _there's a chance right?_

The team is delirious in delight, disbelieving almost - they had once dreamed of getting to top four, but playing the actual finals was on nobody's agenda. In the hustle and bustle of the chaotic venue Zixuan misses Yuhao for almost the entire day. His brain sending sardonic passes at his half frantic glances all around the hall every five minutes. Across the court, Chengen sends him a knowing smile. Zixuan doesn't even have the urge to flip him off in his heart anymore. 

He tucks away his nervousness behind carefully planned out strategies and positions - plan Bs up to Zs. Every what if and player combination and counts down the seconds to the start of the match - his brain tells him its the apprehension of at last watching his sorely missed out on chance to play but heart thumping against his rib cage, chanting - _Yuhao, Yuhao, YUHAO!_

As the players saunter up to the court, Zixuan lets out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Yuhao glows in his new uniform, honey tan skin glittering under the stadium lights, methodically turning around to meet his gaze, and sending soft unspoken words - _believe me_. he seems to say, _even if you can't believe in yourself_. Zixuan's breath hitches wondering how he had never noticed how beautiful Yuhao was before. Its a startling realization, the world tilting ever so slightly on its axis. If Zixuan had been holding back before, well, things just got a hundred times harder.

The match starts, a short whistle blowing and Zixuan is swept away. For once, he is not the one playing the game. And along with the actual match happening before his eyes, several others play in the background. Some for strategy and some purely based on memory. Unbeknownst to many, Zixuan was a feeler, and sentimentalism was his secret pain. He can feel a few tears prickle at his eyes as he watches the game unfold in front of him.

In the weeks leading up to the match, he had been able to somewhat mend his camaraderie with Yuhao back, they weren't friends like before, but something tells him they had never really been that, even before, always more. Surprisingly instead of it being awkward, the air is charged, between them, almost waiting for something to go off, and more often than not he sees something dark coming over Yuhao's gaze on him, like he had been hiding it before, now free to let it out in the open - it made something in his stomach trip, heart racing with an unknown excitement. 

But his knee still throbs and the memory of what life could have been is so excruciatingly etched onto his mind that it hurts to feel anything other than pain. A loss that he would carry for the rest of his life. Many nights lying alone in bed he had wondered about the point of still carrying on - what good could life be without playing ever again? He was, like a piano without music, an empty piece of furniture of no use to anyone. 

The worst thing of it all was, he still feels that, unable to play again, in one of the most important matches he had ever had the privilege of witnessing. What good could life be? he thinks eyes singeing, no longer stopping the tears that relentlessly drip down as he watches the game enter its eighth minute. That night when Yuhao confessed, Zixuan had spoken with hope, and confidence, and passion, but he feels all that watered down, washed away from him in this tidal wave of sadness that throbs on every part of his skin - a life that never was, a life that could have been his - happiness he was robbed from.

Then it is suddenly break, and if anybody notices him wiping his away eyes at his sleeve they don't say anything. Yuhao's own eyes are narrowed in concentration and Zixuan pushes his grief aside for a few minutes to gather and re-discuss the continuing plan. In the middle of the game all his penciled down schemes are washed away and he realizes that he _is_ playing, in his mind and his observations and suggestions light everyone's eyes up. Chengen slaps him on the back several times, the coach has something like awe on her face, no doubt dying to ask how he had figured out a particular move sequence. But Zixuan, he realizes has eyes only for one person and Yuhao is looking at him the same way, that faraway _i'm so whipped for you and i wont even deny it_ gaze that makes blood rush to his face and skin tingle with warmth. So he swallows some more nervousness and continues to explain, hoping what he is saying is useful, hoping that even if his own arms aren't the ones holding the ball, at least his ideas can touch it. He yearns so much, to run across the court, just brush his fingers against the net once again, breathing in the jubilation and excitement of being on the field, the anticipation and trepidation, that he almost does. Live it out with his mind that is. He is no longer privileged enough to experience all of that, and his knee throbs in phantom pain at that painful realization. However, before everyone leaves for the game again Yuhao approaches him, no doubt for words of advice, instead the boy just comes closer, and closer, until he can taste his warm breath and feel the tickle of his eyelashes on his cheeks. Yuhao does not attempt to kiss him - instead he says in a such a tender tone, his eyes crinkled in in such sadness that Zixuan almost cries again - "I'm sorry". 

Two words, as if Yuhao had felt all his pain, and in two seconds he pulls away and is gone again, the receding patter of his feet seem to say - _watch me, senior!_ and the peace sign thrown over his shoulder - _I won't let you down!_

The second half starts desperate and dreary, and Zixuan almost holds his breath all the time. He has been pulled back from his haze of memories by Yuhao's sudden close contact, and although he can no longer experience the trepidation of being on the end of receiving a ball on the court, he feels an anticipation so strong that it threatens his resolve of standing quietly and watching Yuhao return his passes dexterously and unfailingly meeting his eyes every time. 

It is true Zixuan still hesitates, wonders about a life that could've been more times than he actually lives the one that he is in now. But now, he just looks, extremely aware, completely in the moment.

He watches as Yuhao positions the ball exactly as he used to, stance so perfect its obvious whom he had tried to copy and the amount of times Yuhao must have watched him do this to learn brings color high in his cheeks. For those few minutes Zixuan doe not bother to think about what could've happened, if he were the one playing instead, so engrossed in Yuhao's serve.

They are neck to neck then, in points, sweat flying in the air like shattered diamonds - so precious, and Yuhao steals Zixuan's grace, and his movements, and his passion, applies it in his own very differently built but still somehow perfect body. There is a joy in Yuhao's eyes and Zixuan feels his world shift, as Yuhao smiles, throwing the ball high in the air, springing from the ground and in a beautiful, leap hitting the ball in one swift motion, which swooshes across the air, and lands with the loudest, most satisfying clatter on the opponents side. Its loud, louder than the thunderous roars that follow, but not louder than the blood rushing to his ears. 

Zixuan forgets to breathe, and forgets to cry. He thinks, in that second- if there was one good thing that came from his injury and consequent training for training it would probably be this asshole. This bastard with his cunning smile and laughing eyes This perfect human with his perfect lines and heart of gold so susceptible to be broken, and suddenly Zixuan isn't afraid anymore.

He thinks, even if he cannot believe in the universe that decided to curse him into legs like like this, he can at least trust Yuhao. Who makes promises and carries them out, who promised to reach the finals but instead brought them a trophy, whose heart he broke but was instead rewarded with heart eyes even in the middle of a finals game. 

Zixuan runs, across the court, joy bursting in his lungs like uncontrollable laughter and lets himself get swept up into Yuhao's arms like he weighs nothing. The look in Yuhao's eyes is priceless - disbelieving, proud and so, so happy. In that moment Zixuan forgets, forgets everything he missed out on, everything he never had because of this brilliant boy holding him up like he would break any second if he let go, eyes full of longing, so much residual pain that Zixuan wants to erase it, all of it, this pain and confusion in his eyes, this uncertainty.

Behind him he hears loud cheering and wolf whistles, led probably by Chengen, Xiaoxiao's manic laughter riot in the air, somewhere someone shouting - we won! we won! Legs tangled around Yuhao's hips he looks down at him, air warm, confetti falling, feeling like he himself won the match and not just the others. Yuhao looking up at him in wonder and in awe and so, so in love. that he can no longer help it. Zixuan puts his pain and hesitation on that shelf he wants to burn someday, takes Yuhao's face in his palms and brings there mouths together. 

Yuhao tastes sweet and sweaty and so happy. The rush of joy that goes through his body is everything and he forgets where they are for several seconds. 

He says the words he wanted to in that moment much later, but right then, he feels fulfilled, broken knees may be a hamper in volleyball, but it was slightly more bearable if there was someone to carry him around willingly, and react so adorably when kissed.

Zixuan is still hesitant. He thinks he never won't be. He gives so much to life and it always feels like what's taken from him is worth more than that. Running on empty always. It is this fear that makes him hesitate when he sees Yuhao's smile in the semi darkness, hovering under him, eyes still full of love and expectation glimmering. He is afraid to give, fearful of whether what he will receive will sustain him. But in love, he realizes that one _wants_ to give, It s not a question of giving on return, it is giving for giving. And he once again marvels at this thought, as Yuhao makes a series of pleased sounds from his throat when he is being held like this, wiggling to better adjust there hands, leg hooked around his injured one to prevent the risk of any damage coming to it. And his heart swells, it is different than life, where to give is scary, but here it is what he wants, Yuhao looks good like this - thoroughly kissed and eyes bright and hair ruffled. It is harder to take, Zixuan has learnt. It can be consequence of the good or the bad, in his case he doesn't know what he did to deserve to get his injury, but here, its not so difficult. With Yuhao's dark gaze hovering above him, sending shivers down his spine, he is not afraid. The moans that leave his lips unrestrained and the pleasure that sits under his skin are someone's offering to him, and taking it is his privilege. He misses being on court, breathless in sport and sometimes he feels drained of his passion. But here in bed with someone who calls his own he gets to have it in a different way. Its not the same, can never be, but he is always grateful, in the way Yuhao manages to leave him breathless every time, and he ridiculously happy in the knowledge that he too can do the same for Yuhao as well. 

Lying in the afterglow, Zixuan looks at his lover, half lidded eyes, expression still as naive as the first time had seen him, capable of showing boundless joy and heartbreaking sadness, a limitless trust shining it it. Like he would follow Zixuan to the ends of the earth if he could, like he had believed even before he had known him, Yuhao says, 

"Zixuan, Are you avenged?", and his voice is broken in such a perfect way that Zixuan cannot help but steal another kiss again - earning a stifled giggle.

"I was given a lot of boundaries, _haohao_ ", he says, suddenly embarrassed at his own nickname. No matter, because Yuhao seems to be blushing just as hard.

"And I was always afraid, of crossing them", he takes a deep breath, and hopes to convey his fear of disappointment, and his disbelief at the price of love which is in itself is a priceless thing, "And I didn't know what you saw in me."

And Yuhao's gaze is so sad that it almost brings out a few tears of his own, Yuhao looks as if it was his fault for not letting him know - 

"No, dummy, I know now", and they laugh.

"I thought I had to give something to take", says Zixuan suddenly nervous, "But this is not transaction".

"I know I drew the lines", he says, kissing Yuhao's forehead, nose, mouth, "But I'm no longer in the competition".

"Hsia Yu Hao, I love you" 

And the boy laughs, pulling him closer, foreheads resting on each other, 

"I know", Yuhao whispers.

And Zixuan is _charmed_ , once again, no longer embarrassed at how non obvious he had been in his feelings, only slightly regretful about the time Yuhao had waited. As if sensing his thoughts, Yuhao pouts, bumping his nose against his own, sending tingles down his spine,

"Don't you dare blame yourself", Yuhao admonishes, but his voice is too soft, he feels he a giggle come up his throat.

Zixuan knows they are not perfect, still prone to damage, more at risk to breaking than bones. It has always been like that, Yuhao pushing the boundary and testing how far he can go before being rapped at his back and sent back to practice, and it was his own honor to be able to take, play the game he had never thought someone would be interested to with him. It was Yuhao's choice to go ahead and fall for him, to cross the line and declare his love to the empty stadium that shaped his muscles and his mind, but it was his own decision to let him. Into his life and mind, and to gift a trust that defied the limits of a marked up court. When Yuhao walks towards a game, he carries a part of Zixuan's own anguish and hope, and when he throws the ball over in that brilliant jump serve, perfected several times over, he wears his love for Zixuan as loudly as as the washed up uniform that Zixuan always insists on ironing with his own hands before matches. 

"I know I crossed a line", Yuhao says, suddenly nervous, eyeing something near his collarbone as he stares up into his eyes. Fearful, but unable to take his eyes away. Still so in love.

Zixuan trembles, still unable to take all of it. He hopes one day he can.

"But this is my house and you'll need a button up for that", Yuhao continues, hesitating, tapping the hickey with his knuckles, making Zixuan shiver.

"Say it", he says, no longer able to fight away the laughter in his voice, heart, lungs.

"Qiu Zi Xuan, I love you", and Zixuan leans down in an instant, landing the perfect kiss, making Yuhao giggle softly in the dying light of the day. Gripping his hips like his life depended on it, legs wrapped around his own like he wants to carry him everywhere. They shuffle over, now Yuhao face above is own, glowing in the darkness, eyes crinkling in pure delight. The kiss he gets in return is a promise. Of borrowed shirts and kisses, perfect serves and massages. 

That he would never be alone again, in pain or in joy, he had always given so much that it hurt to take. But Yuhao made it easy. Always taking the first step, taking his hand and crossing every boundary - fear, casualty, loneliness. 

The ball still flies across the court and crowds roar, but Zixuan can no longer feel the pain of being left behind. From the court, he knows a pair of eyes will always be looking in his direction.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! hmu @dimpled_joon


End file.
